Sanguine Red and Cobalt Blue
by Zapwing
Summary: "His mental condition," said Optimus, gravely, "stems from his being built to kill. And to keep killing." Jack/Miko. No OCs. Contains bot and human gore.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The Rust Desert; a seemingly never ending expanse of reddish orange that stretched for miles and miles, dunes rolling and bending, famous for the rust storms strong enough to tear Cybertronian metal to shreds. It was for this very reason that Sensor was grateful for the safety provided by the Motor-Lab's shield. The lab essentially, was an oblong building on wheels, one of many that had been constructed for the express purpose of exploring harsh environments such as these. It rolled across the unforgiving landscape, its gigantic tank treads flattening dunes, rust blades smacking uselessly on its metal hide, the blue light emanating from its reinforced windows.

Near the bottom of the vehicle, was the cargo and engineering bay. In the mid decks, were the crew and scientists living quarters, navigational hard drives and the bridge. On top were the communications array (now retracted) and the captain's nest.

Sensor, in question, was in one of the lab's many well lit chambers, bent over his work. He was relatively young, mid-twenties in human years, yet hiding vorns of experience behind his wide optics. Sensor muttered to himself as he picked up a transparent tube, peering at the specimen inside. An insecticon; twenty legs, serpentine body, stinger on its tail, digging and hacking tools for mouthparts, thrashed around in the tube madly, purple optics seething with rage. This specimen wasn't alone; hundreds upon hundreds of species adorned the shelves, in all manner of shapes, sizes, and number of limbs.

Sensor noted a hitherto unseen detail, and tapped it onto a data pad on his desk. An entomologist by trade, Sensor had eagerly volunteered on a scientific project to document new species of insecticon in the Rust Desert, the insecticons being the only Cybertronians equipped to survive in a harsh environment such as this. Their resilience fascinated Sensor; the rust storms usually made short work of a bot's chassis. Sensor completed his input, replaced the tube, and sighed. He picked up another tube, this time an insecticon with six legs arranged in a helical pattern, and two overly large pincers.

There was a chime from the doorway, and Sensor uttered an oath. "What is it?" he demanded. The door whooshed upwards, and Wheeljack entered, carrying a small crate in his arms. Sensor cringed. He didn't say it out loud, but he disliked the Warrior Class. Immensely. To him, they possessed tact that amounted to zero. No, below that. And he was sure they had the processing power of a brick on a hot day.

"They said you needed these new specimens up here," said Wheeljack, smiling good naturedly. Sensor nodded, relieved that the brute had at least the sense to handle the crate carefully; he didn't want to think what would happen to the delicate little things of he had done otherwise.

"Just put them over there," said Sensor, gesturing to a nearby desk, strewn with holo-pads and diagrams. He turned back to his own work, intending to ignore the soldier.

"Just so you know," said Wheeljack, "We're hitting some pretty shaky territory. Rumor has it that the last few teams that came 'round here were slaughtered."

Sensor rolled his optics, thankful that Wheeljack couldn't see his face. "I'll keep that in mind, Wheeljack."

He heard the crate touch the desk, and Wheeljack's pede-steps heading for the door. "I'm sure you will." The door opened and closed, signaling Wheeljack's departure.

Relieved that the oaf was gone, Sensor eagerly strode over to the crate and tapped its touch screen. The locks popped open, and Sensor lifted the lid, peering inside. He gaped in awe at the insecticon inside the first tube he picked up. A thin body, two pairs of moderately sized front legs, and two overly large rear ones.

That was when the Motor-Lab's engines ground to a shuddering halt. Sensor swore at the sudden inertia, as he nearly dropped the tube, and he held on to the edge of the desk to steady himself. Thankfully, none of the other specimens were harmed. "What now…?" he muttered, as an emergency strobe flashed. The door hissed open, and a bot stuck his head through. "Breach alert! Stay at your post!" Sensor stared stupidly as the bot withdrew, and the door hissed closed, this time with seals clamped over it. Sensor's servos shook as he replaced the tube. A breach was serious, which was why the transport had been modified to seal off exposed compartments should one occur. Nevertheless, it still spawned uneasiness in him anyway.

A lengthy and uncomfortable silence followed. Sensor paced back and forth, his jaw clenched in worry. Occasionally, he would scold himself for being so anxious, and he would sit down, only to start pacing again. He was worried because a breach was highly unlikely in a large vessel like this. He fervently wondered what the captain was doing about this.

Another set of alarms sounded, making Sensor jump. The strobe was red this time, which meant-

There was a sudden commotion outside the door. Sensor's optics widened as he heard a bot's muffled voice. "Freeze! Identify your-"

A sudden pained screech. Sensor gasped as the sound penetrated the door, and streamed through his audio.

"Oh, Primus, did he just-"

"Fire at will!"

Gunshots.

More yells and shrieks.

Sensor swallowed, and grabbed the closest thing that passed for a weapon; a dissection laser. He flicked it to its highest setting, a red light glowing from the needle like tip. A sudden impact buckled the door, and split it, a bot having been thrown against it. At the same time, the lights went out. Sensor blinked, as his optics' filters adjusted to the darkness. He reached forward, feeling the bot's spark-pulse. The bot groaned, as he sat up, and Sensor breathed a sigh of relief. That was when the bot glanced towards the door and yelled. He swatted Sensor's servo away, and scrabbled to his pedes. Sensor drew back, alarmed.

"What in the name of-"

"Get away!" yelled the bot, "He's sick in the head, I tell you!"

"Who is?" demanded Sensor, definitely scared now. He knew these military bots, even if he resented them; they were the tough, gung-ho type, not easily shaken.

"Indeed? Who is?"

Sensor whipped around, and came face to face with a series of poisonous green optics. The bot screamed again, and made to run, (His blasters had been torn off) but to no avail; a sharp projectile flew past Sensor's audio and skewered the bot's head. Sensor coughed as a foul stench hit his olfactory sensors; the stench of bodily energon. Sensor raised his laser to the intruder, and its crimson light illuminating the enemy's thin body. And the energon and mesh that covered it. Sensor choked as the gore encrusted intruder walked forward, green optics (all six of them) trained on Sensor. It was still too dark to see his face.

"What do we have here? A scientist? I see you've armed yourself," said the killer. Is voice was odd; a perfectly normal tone overlaying a buzzing and clicking.

His servo suddenly darted towards Sensor, and the entomologist grunted as he pulled the tool's trigger. A buzzing sound emanated from the laser, but the intruder was not intimidated. He grabbed the tool, even as the laser made an incision on his palm, plucked it from the scientist, and promptly crushed the device with his overly long fingers. "A dissection laser is hardly a weapon, my friend," said the intruder, as though he was discussing the weather. He dropped the damaged tool, and it made a clanging noise on the metal floor.

It echoed in the now silent room, and carried down the corridor. Sensor noticed the quietness and his optics widened in terror. He wasn't a military bot; he'd never even come within two clicks of a weapon in his life. He stumbled backwards, trying to find an avenue of escape, his servos grabbing at the wall, hitting shelves and instruments in the near darkness. All the while, the killer stalked forwards, almost leisurely, as if he was enjoying Sensor's panic.

"You're a shaky one…"

Sensor tried to block out the intruder's voice, as he drew ragged intakes. He felt something, and his digits fumbled with the wall-mounted object, hoping it would provide him with some defense. He pushed, pulled, and then sparks flew out of the device. The resulting flash illuminated the intruder briefly, enough for Sensor to see the long arms, dark grey coloration with red highlights, mandibles and spiky barbs.

The room was dark once more. Sensor was shaking like a rust flake now, optics dilated, intakes rising rapidly with his spark-beat. He somehow sensed that the killer was smiling.

And then he felt claws tear into his torso, buckling the metal hide. Sensor let out a ragged scream, and then he felt the appendage twist and twist and twist. It withdrew sharply, pulling out components, dripping with energon and hydraulic fluids. Sensor dropped to the floor, clutching the breaching wound, optics unfocused.

His vision was clouded, but he could still hear something. A clicking noise, superseded by tearing and crunching. Primus, he was eating! He was actually-

Sudden pede-steps, followed by the drawing of swords, and, "Stop right there, fragger."

The chewing stopped, and Sensor could just make out the killer, turning around sharply. A battle cry, the clang of metal on metal, and a loud bang and a series of crashes, and then silence. Wheeljack rushed over to Sensor, and his optics widened as he cursed.

"Wheeljack to bridge," he said, "I've got the intruder alive and unconscious, but we need a medic down here, now!"

But it was too late for Sensor. His optics were dull as he stared dumbly at the ceiling.

He'd offlined as soon as Wheeljack had gotten to him.


	2. Chapter 1

**NOTE: Just to spice things up, I'm gonna give you guys a chance to guess who's the main baddie in this fanfic!**

** And remember, there are no OCs involved in this fic!**

**Happy guessing!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

There was a reason Miko Nakadai chose to sit by the window. By glancing outside, she could always lose herself in the sparse clouds that soared across Nevada's sky, imagining that they were aircraft of some kind, or more recently, cybertronian warriors unleashing their fury in blazes of weapon and ammunition. She also loved the warmth of the sunshine, the way it caressed the back of her neck, and the illumination it provided for her desk. And the pages of the Japanese manga she conveniently secreted underneath her textbooks. Yes, Miko loved the window. But today, she was regretting her choice of seat, because of one simple fact…

There was a spider, a large one, crawling across the pane. Its eight legs seemed to move independently of each other, in a fluid manner that made Miko shudder. The arachnid was also a terrifying few inches from Miko's ear, and it was twiddling its fangs up and down, as if it was enjoying her terror. The teacher was still droning on, oblivious to what Miko was going through.

"And so, we can find the volume of this shape by adding the volume of the cone with that of the…"

She'd always been afraid of spiders; ever since she had several of them skitter up her back when she was a preschooler. The feathery brush of many, many pairs of legs along her spine, and the occasional tickle of a venomous fang, all occurring within a horrifying time frame of two minutes, had left the girl petrified of spiders, or any arthropod for that matter. Airachnid didn't count, for some reason. She didn't know why. Maybe because of all the helicopter parts stuck all over her…

"…and thus we get the result as follows. Remember, that when dealing with cones, Pythagoras' theorem applies…

Miko's forehead and palms was now slick with sweat and she gripped the edges of her desk tightly, her knuckles white. She observed the aberration, noting the detail of its glistening black eyes, the patterns on its abdomen, and those horrible, horrible pincers. It was quite a big spider; she wondered why no one else had noticed it. Miko bit her lip, as it suddenly scuttled down the window pane, and onto the sill, facing her desk. Its eyes seemed to shine with a mad glee…

"…all you have to do, is remember that, in essence, a cone is just a three dimensional triangle with a circular base…"

The spider scuttled closer and closer to Miko's desk, and almost lazily, stretched out two front legs, as if trying to reach. It failed on its first attempt, and then leaned over a few more inches. This time, the tips brushed her arms…

"…to reiterate, Pythagoras' Theorem states that, a right angle's hypotenuse, is-"

WHAM!

The class snapped to attention; most of them were startled from their bored stupor, some jumped in their seats, and a few more screamed. Miko, whose math textbook had been recently been put to use against the arachnid (now deceased), realized the ruckus she had caused, and smiled sheepishly. The teacher was now looking at her, appraising the girl over her spectacles. The rest of the class stared at Miko, as if she was some new oddity. Rafael 'Raf' Esquivel, who had been bumped up a few grades, and Jackson 'Jack' Darby, who had dropped his calculator in surprise, had turned around in their seats, to give her a worried look. Miko laughed nervously.

"There was a spider…"

* * *

><p>"Heeeeeeeeeeelll yyyyeeeaaahhh," cheered Miko, as she performed an air guitar. Bulkhead's radio was screaming out a loud number from Slash Monkey, which was making the Hummer's speakers vibrate. Beside her, in the driver's seat, Bulkhead's holo-form; a heavily muscled young Caucasian male, with a military buzz cut, dressed in a dark green jacket and shirt, was head banging vigorously. They were lucky no one else was on the road; seeing the two of them driving down the street, would make anyone wonder if an asylum had opened nearby.<p>

Since Bumblebee and Arcee were off with Optimus on another energon scouting mission, Jack and Raf were confined to Bulkhead's back seat. Raf was playing a game on his laptop, with Jack watching his progress over his shoulder. Occasionally, Jack would throw a glance at Miko, trying to detect any abnormality. "You think she's cooled down?"

Raf peeked up from his screen and shrugged. "I'm pretty sure she has; Slash Monkey has a calming effect on the human mind. It's scientifically proven."

Jack looked at Raf, unsure if the boy was messing with him. Upon seeing his expression, Raf raised an eyebrow. "No seriously," he said, "Slash Monkey is therapeutic." He minimized his game, and brought up a Wikipedia article on his web browser, which listed all the positive effects on the mind and body provided by Slash Monkey.

Jack blinked. Maybe he could borrow Miko's CDs…

"Why are you so worried, anyway?" asked Raf, "It was just a spider…"

Jack ignored the question, instead, deciding to stare out the window, and spot the occasional cactus that swept by.

Bulkhead's holographic face went blank for a second, as they approached base. The outline shimmered and the holo-form disappeared. "Hey Raf," said Bulkhead, "You might want to turn off your computer. We're getting near base now."

"Oh, right," said Raf, as he started to close all the active programs. And with good reason; the base's entrance tunnel was laced with a detection field which scrambled any bugging device, be it human or Decepticon. It made sense to turn all electronics off. Jack powered off his phone, and leaned over to remind Miko to do the same.

Miko rolled her eyes. "I know, I know, I'm not a baby, okay?"

Jack smiled. "Sure you aren't, Miko."

Miko just responded by sticking out her tongue at him and flipping him the bird.

* * *

><p>Bulkhead drew closer to the tall rock face, and a large section of it, at least as tall as an average house, uprooted itself from the ground, to reveal a vertical opening. Bulkhead accelerated, his vehicle mode zooming through the tunnel, until the lights along its length blurred into a single line. Behind him, the opening closed with a thud. Bulkhead reached the other end of the tunnel, and decelerated, coming to a stop right on top of the Autobot insignia on the floor. Miko and the others unbuckled, knowing Bulkhead was eager to stretch his legs. Literally. The vehicle vibrated for a second, before its plating split apart, and the limbs and head formed, in a furious clang of metal.<p>

Miko grinned and shoved Jack lightly. "You and me. _Battlefield_. Now."

Jack gave Miko an amused look. "Is that a challenge?"

"Hell yes, it is!"

"Then, you're on!"

The two scrambled up the stairs, and collided with the couch, Raf following behind, laptop open in his hands, as he booted its operating system. Miko fumbled with the PlayStation's controllers, finally selecting one, and Jack took up another. Ratchet, who had just entered, tool in servo, rolled his optics at the sight of them.

"Hi, Ratchet," greeted Raf, cheerfully, as he plopped into the armchair. His laptop was done booting, and the Windows symbol flashed on screen.

"Yes, yes, greetings to you," said Ratchet absent mindedly, as he bent down towards a computer console, its panels opened, revealing the curious mix of human and cybertronian hardware beneath. He muttered calculations and algorithms under his vents, as set to work on the machinery, his tool emitting sparks.

"So, what death match mode is it today?" asked Bulkhead, taking his place behind the railing, and facing the console, "Capture-the-flag or Free-for-all?"

"Free-for-all," said Miko, "Winner takes the spoils."

As if on cue, Jack let out an anguished cry as Miko's avatar shot his between the eyes. Ratchet rolled his optics again, as he finished his routine maintenance, and shut the console's panels. "Done, done, and done," he said, "And now…"

He raised a digit, and tapped the console's screen. It flashed green, displaying the Autobot symbol for a second, and then switching to an orbital radar screen. Ratchet smiled and dusted his servos, satisfied of a job well done. That was when a blip appeared. Ratchet's optics widened, surprised at the sudden reading. He leaned closer, and maximized that section of the screen. "That can't be right…," he said, awe creeping into his voice.

"Hey, Ratch, you okay?" asked Bulkhead, optic-brow raised.

"My new radar just picked up a cybertronian object. In high orbit…"

"'Bots or 'Cons?" asked Bulkhead, frowning.

"Actually, I'm more concerned with the age of the object. According to this"-he brought up another window-"…the thing must be severely outdated. They're at least a thousand years old, probably more than that…"

"How can you tell?"

"Well, if they were newer, they would have an Autobot or Decepticon reading, or at least some kind of faction. This thing must date before the war, when we were united…" He leaned closer, and ran another program. "And it seems they're not in control of their descent, either."

"You mean a crash landing…"

"In at least twenty minutes. I'd better contact Optimus and the others; this could be important."

Bulkhead nodded, as he brought up a screen on his optical HUD, reviewing his weapon conditions, and power levels. Ratchet, hit an icon on the communication screen. "Base to Optimus, this is Ratchet." The kids looked up at the sudden activity, curious. There was slight delay, before Optimus' baritone responded. "Optimus reading you loud and clear, Ratchet."

"I've discovered a cybertronian ship of some kind in orbit, coming in for a rough landing. And it's practically ancient. I think we may have something monumental on our hands if the Decepticons haven't detected it yet."

"Understood, old friend. Ready the Ground Bridge; we'll be ready to receive it when it lands. Optimus out."

Ratchet terminated the link, and started work on the coordinates on the Ground Bridge console. Jack and the others dropped their respective devices, and scampered next to Ratchet. The Autobot didn't acknowledge their presence, preferring to work on the screen. "What's this I hear about an old spaceship?" asked Miko, excitedly, leaning against the railway.

"Not old," argued Ratchet, "But antiquated. Very antiquated…"

"So…it's old…"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Yes, for lack of a better word, it's old. You see before the war, we were at our technological height. When the conflict escalated, we had to load our most prized technology and artifacts into ships like the one we've picked up."

"So, you're hoping that this thing might contain something valuable?" asked Raf, brown eyes wide behind his spectacles.

"Yes, extremely valuable," said Ratchet, irritably, "Or extremely dangerous. Now go away; I've got coordinates to run." He waved a servo, shooing them away. And that was that. The three of them traded glances, before turning away from a busy Ratchet.

"Is it just me?" asked Jack, "Or is it just a coincidence that everything that gets shot out of Cybertron end up on Earth?"

Raf shivered, as if he were in a strong wind. "It's like we're cursed or something…"

"Or," said Miko, grinning widely, "They're probably taking a shortcut through Narnia!"

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE: Well, that's the end of this chapter. I'll update whenever get the chance (read: as soon as possible).<strong>

**And remember: I'm waiting for your guesses as to who's the baddie! Winners will be rewarded with free internet muffins!**

**Do it for the Muffins! (No, seriously, do it for the muffins: they're chocolate chip) **


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Bumblebee exited the Ground Bridge portal and transformed, dust and sand cascading from every nook and cranny of his systems. He let out an annoyed chime and beep as what looked like half a desert carpeted the floor. Arcee groaned in loathing as she extricated several pebbles from under her shoulder armor. The rubble hit the floor with loud clangs, some shattering into dust, adding to the debris on the floor. The only one who showed absolutely no discomfort whatsoever was Optimus. He converted to his bipedal form, sand, grit, debris, and a splintered cactus clattering to the ground. His faceplates stoic as ever, the Autobot leader walked to the nearest console to examine the object's trajectory. Ratchet, who had been tending to the Ground Bridge's screen, looked at the mess, and clapped a servo to his face.

_/Sorry, Ratchet /_said Bumblebee, rubbing the back of his helm sheepishly.

"That's alright," snarled the medic, "because _you're_ going to clean it up." Bumblebee gave a sad chitter.

"Let me guess," said Jack, as he leaned on the metal railing, "Sahara?"

"Gobi Desert," grunted Arcee. As if to underline this point, a cloud of sand billowed out of her torso plates.

"The Gobi Desert?" said Raf, standing beside Jack, "I was expecting Egypt."

_/I remember Egypt/_ mused Bumblebee, _/Nice place, if you don't mind the sand. And the pyramids are stunning at night. /_

"Wow! You went to see the pyramids?" exclaimed Raf, grinning, "I used to read all about them!"

"I'd kill to see the pyramids…" said Miko, longingly, as she leaned on Bulkhead's shoulder plate, "I heard they still keep the mummies in there…"

Optimus was considering telling Miko that, yes; the mummified remains were still inside the ancient structures, and yes, they were intact, and no, she would not have to kill anyone to see them; they could always Ground Bridge her there. Instead, he decided to focus on the screen, optics skating over the grids and readouts, his brain processing the information rapidly. "Ratchet, have you calculated the object's trajectory?"

"I have," said the medic, "I'm uploading the coordinates to the Ground Bridge right now. I think it'll land somewhere on the…" He was interrupted when a notification appeared on a smaller screen, the Department of Defense logo. "Fowler," sighed Ratchet, faceplates grinding in irritation, "Of all the times-"

"It's fine, Ratchet. I'll take the call." A window flashed open and Agent William Fowler's face popped up. "Prime? This is Agent Fowler here! Do you read me?"

"I am reading you loud and clear, Agent Fowler," responded Optimus, arms crossed over his chest. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"The boys at the Pentagon say they've found an energon reading. In orbit," said Fowler. As he spoke, he wiped a napkin across his forehead; wherever he was, it was someplace temperate. "So which is it? Con or Bot?"

"It is aligned with neither, Agent Fowler," rumbled Optimus, "The craft is an ancient relic, from before the War. Our biggest concern is who claims it first."

Fowler's face tightened. "Is there something on that thing I should be worried about, Prime? I mean apart from the collateral damage?"

"Actually, we don't know exactly what the craft contains," said Ratchet, still occupied with the Ground Bridge console. "It could be data cores, artifacts, Cybertronians in stasis." He withdrew from his display, servo hovering cat like over the touch-board. "Maybe even weapons," he said, darkly.

Fowler bit his lip. Then, "Alright, Prime. Do you know where it'll hit the ground?"

"Yes," said Optimus, as he extended a servo and transferred a window to his own screen, "Ratchet has calculated that the anomaly will land in this spot, at these latitudes and longitudes. Within the borders of the nation you call Canada."

At the human's living area, Miko leaned closer to the boys and whispered, "Do any of you notice that Fowler looks permanently hung-over?"

Jack scratched his head in thought, brow furrowed. "Now that you mention it…"

"He does seem kind of…" Raf paused, searching for the right word. "…stoned."

Fowler swore, face palming. "Canada…that complicates things… I want you to handle this carefully, Prime, preferably covert. We don't want any issues with the Canadian Government." Optimus nodded but sighed inwardly. It pained him to admit, that despite humanity's best efforts, they were still a divided people, divided just like the castes on Cybertron had been. It did not bode well for this young race. "Understood, Fowler. However, I cannot-"

"You can't condone any human casualties, I know," sighed Fowler, "We've heard this before."

"Well, if it makes you any happier, the thing is going to land somewhere deserted," interjected Ratchet, digits clicking furiously across his touch-board, "A very densely forested area, hardly any human habitation for miles at least."

"Human habitation or no, I expect you to keep damage to a minimum," said Fowler, as he loosened his tie; it must be very warm indeed. "I've got the President breathing down my neck for this, Prime. Don't screw this."

"I understand, Agent Fowler. But I'm afraid I cannot promise you anything."

"Just deal with this, Prime. Fowler out."

The agent terminated the link and the window closed, making room for the usual slew of graphs and diagrams. "So, Canada, huh?" said Bulkhead, approaching Optimus, "Heard the weather's pretty good this time of year."

"I believe it is," said Optimus, "Ratchet, are the coordinates ready?"

"Just give me a few more minutes, Optimus. It takes time loading these, nowadays…fragging scraplets."

"Language, Ratchet", called a smiling Arcee, as she leaned against the railing, "There are children here."

* * *

><p>Miko gave a small laugh as Ratchet grumbled something about applying a hydraulic ram to a scraplet's interface cable, when a cluster of sand trickled out of a small niche in Bumblebee's armor and engulfed the girl. With a yelp, Miko shut her eyes, lest she get a grain of sand in her retinas; she knew from experience, how irritating sand was to the eye. The scout snapped his optics in Miko's direction, and warbled apologetically, as he leaned towards her.<p>

Sensing his concern, she waved a hand, the other brushing sand off herself. "It's okay, Bee, no need to say sorry. I'd probably not even understand…"

She stopped abruptly, as she felt a series of pricks on her back. They were under her shirt, on her skin, and moving methodically up her spine. It felt like what needles would feel like if they were lightly brushed against your skin, in the same way someone might brush a feather across your face. It was all too familiar…

_Skitter-skitter-skitter_

Bumblebee's optics widened at Miko's abrupt silence. He looked to Arcee. _/ Uhh…'Cee? /_

_Skitter-skitter-skitter_

The Ducati, who had been flicking sand out of her Energon SMGs, looked up, and frowned, worry on her faceplates. "Miko… are you okay?"

_Skitter-skitter-skitter_

Miko's breaths were rising, and her heart was in overdrive. No, please not here, not now…

She gritted her teeth and tore off her shirt, rapidly pulling it over her head, revealing the smooth skin of her torso and back…

...and all ten of the black, cell-phone-sized scorpions that were in the process of exploring her body. The two bots fell silent, as they gaped at the creatures, open-mouthed, and the scorpions stared back, noticing the sudden change in light. Miko couldn't help it. She screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed, until she was sure she was going to choke on her own blood, as she frantically swept her arms over her body, trying to brush off the monsters. Everything became a blur, she had no idea what was going on, and she didn't care either, because they were all over her, all over her skin, all spines and barbs, ready to pierce her skin, and torture her soul…

_**Doesn't matter where you are**_, said her inner monologue, _**and doesn't matter where you run off to…**_

"Bulkhead, NO! You don't have a clear shot!"

_**They'll find you, and they'll torment you, drive you insane, make you go all loopy…**_

"Miko! Miko! Answer me!"

_**And they'll keep on doing this until they get hold of your naked body, lick you, probe you, kiss you, fuck you…**_

"…heart rate's rising!"

_**And they'll enjoy every minute of it, the way your lips feel against theirs, the way your body moves, the way you sweat, the way you scream, moan and cry, because Kami, you just taste so good!**_

_SPLOOSH_

Miko, gasped as the jet of cold water smacked into her body. The last scorpion, dazed by the looks of it, lost its grip on her skin, and dropped to the floor, legs flailing. A foot encased in a sneaker descended and squashed the hapless arthropod. Miko shivered, and then noticed she was on the floor, shirtless, in the fetal position, her face, upper body, torso and bra drenched in water. She looked up, at the owner of the aforementioned sneaker, and locked eyes with jack. The boy threw aside the still dripping hose, and knelt beside the shivering girl, hand on her shoulder.

A panicked Bulkhead, who was being restrained by the combined efforts of Bumblebee and Optimus, shook them aside, and rushed towards the platform, optics wide in fear. Ratchet deployed a scanner, and ran it over Miko, who hadn't moved an inch. "She'll be alright," said the medic, calmly, though his vocals shook slightly; he hadn't seen anyone scream and thrash around like that, organic or not. "No traces of venom. Nothing to worry about Bulkhead."

The Wrecker wasn't convinced. "Miko! Miko, are you okay?" he practically screamed.

"It's okay Bulkhead" said Jack, "She's just in shock; her phobia…"

Raf who had disposed of his own hose, then began the necessary task of squashing any of the bugs that looked like they were still moving, determined expression on his face. Arcee, who had also joined in the hose-down, set aside her own improvised weapon, and peered at the creatures, optics zooming in. "What in the name of Primus are these things?"

"Scorpions," said Raf, stomping one more time, panting heavily, "relatives of spiders."

"…and if my database is correct," said Ratchet, gravely, "Most species are highly venomous as well. It's a miracle they didn't think of stinging Miko. "

_/They must have crawled in my armor somehow. Freaky little things…/_ said Bumblebee, his frame shuddering. Arcee agreed with the scout; these bugs were the most unnerving organics she'd encountered so far.

Jack helped a shaking Miko to the couch, holding the girl close, speaking soothing words, saying that they were gone, everything's going to be alright… Miko's arms were still wrapped around herself, and she leaned against Jack, whimpering softly, as he set her down. He sat next to her, one arm around her still-wet shoulders, the other clutching her discarded shirt.

"It's gonna be okay, Miko…" whispered Jack, stroking her skin, "You'll be alright. It's over now."

Miko closed her eyes, and rested her head on his shoulder. Optimus focused his optics on Miko, scanning her vitals. Apart from a slightly increased heartbeat, she was fine. "Miko," he said, softly, "It is over now. Be at peace."

Miko drew a shuddering breath, opened her eyes and gave a weak nod. Optimus tipped his helm, and turned towards Ratchet. "The Ground Bridge, Ratchet?"

Ratchet, who had been distracted, started, and inspected a screen. "We are locked on. I'll start the firing sequence."

"Acknowledged," said Optimus. He turned back to Miko and Jack, sighing. Despite their inner strength, and pure heart, humans, children especially, had troubles facing their inner demons.

He knew how it felt; he struggled with them every day.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Ratchet remembered the first time he'd seen a Seeker wake up without her wings. She'd been injured in a reckless diving stunt, and when she'd woken, and found that her wings had been sheared off, she'd thrashed, writhed and screamed, clawing at her own face and body, gouging horrific wounds, energon spilling everywhere, and attempting to strangle any-bot who came within microns of her. Ratchet had just been a young trainee at the time, fresh out of the academy, and the sight had horrified him; the Seeker's tortured face, streaming with tears, optics wide, mouth open in a ragged screech. And then, she'd gone limp, flopping down on the berth, curled into a ball, sobbing quietly, and shoulders shaking. It didn't help Ratchet's recharging cycles, when he found out she'd slashed her own throat cables later. He'd been fortunate to not deal with any more Seekers over the course of his medical career, and he'd almost forgotten the incident, the memory fading to the darkest reaches of his consciousness.

And then Miko brought it back again. It was bad enough watching someone your own size screech like that. But when that someone was barely higher than your ankle, it takes on more frightening volumes. Miko had thrashed, writhed and screamed just like that Seeker, but because of her small size and age, it was all the more frightening, and saddening, for the medic.

Jack was still on the couch, Miko's head on his shoulder. The girl shivered from time to time, but otherwise she was calm. Raf stood near the table, a scared but resolved expression on his face, and a box of scorpion bits in his hands. The other Autobots were at the Ground Bridge, readying weapons, and topping up on energon. Occasionally, one of them would throw a concerned glance at Miko.

Ratchet gave a mental sigh, and turned back to the screen. The coordinates were loaded, and he typed in a command. "Ground Bridge ready," he announced. Bumblebee nodded, and pulled down the switch. The portal appeared, sending its light across the command center. Bumblebee gave a last worried beep, and departed with the others through the vortex. The portal shivered a second, and then collapsed. Ratchet turned to the communications screen, and started to type purposefully.

"Vox communications test," he said.

"Vox 1: Active," rumbled Optimus.

"Vox 2: Active," said Arcee.

"Vox 3: Active," said Bulkhead.

_/Vox 4: Active/ _said Bumblebee.

Ratchet nodded, satisfied, and then patched the vox system to his personal comm. He'd be able to respond to communications, if, for whatever reason, he was distracted from his screen.

Jack stroked Miko's shoulder, and turned to Raf. "Hey, Raf, could you find a towel or something for Miko? We need to dry her off."

The hacker nodded, putting down the box as far away from Miko as he could. "I'll go check the kitchen; maybe there's a-"

"No need," said Ratchet, leaning closer to the children, "I have just the tool for the job." He raised a servo, and it transformed into a leaf-blower type of device. Jack moved out of the way, as he aimed it towards Miko's back, and the thing let out a small blast of hot air, sending the girl's hair flying forward, small wisps of steam curling around her. The whole thing lasted for about five seconds before Ratchet deactivated the device. Miko's arms dropped to her sides, and she sighed, no longer shivering. Jack noted that her hair was still a little wet, though, and it clung to her forehead, a single strand trailing down her cheek. _She looks nice with wet hair,_ he decided, smiling. Then, he blushed and mentally smacked himself.

"Drying me off with a giant hair dryer," mumbled Miko, "wonderful…"

"Hmmm…You're being intolerable, again," muttered Ratchet, as he did a check on the 'hair dryer', "That's a good sign: you're recuperating."

"Very funny, Ratchet…"

Jack's smile grew wider, and even Raf's lips were twitching: The Asian could recover remarkably fast. It was almost a medicinal miracle. Now Jack _really_ wanted to borrow her CDs. Miko stood up, grabbed her shirt and flopped back down on the couch, head thrown back, eyes closed. She let out a sigh. "I'm gonna grab us some snacks, okay?" said Jack, as he descended the stairs. Miko just nodded in response. Raf sidestepped the large puddle of water, and sat down beside the girl, grabbing his laptop as he did so.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, still concerned. Miko opened her eyes, and threw a soft smile.

"It's alright, Raf, I feel fine."

"Umm…Okay, I guess…"

"Besides, you should feel honored today…"

"Huh?"

She threw an arm around the boy, pulled him close. "You're not even thirteen yet," she said, "And you got your first look at a lady's 'intimate apparel'" She plucked a bra strap, and let it snap back to her skin, giving a cheeky wink. Raf blushed furiously, and muttered something about a high score he needed to catch up on. Miko just laughed softly, ruffled the hacker's hair and pulled her shirt over her head.

Ratchet had gone back to the screens, analyzing the incoming data, and the radar. If they were lucky, they could enter the craft, and make a snatch-and-grab for anything important before the Decepticons showed up. And if it contained anything dangerous…well, they weren't going to forget the Cybonic Plague anytime soon. Best to eliminate it and move on with their campaign, if they found such a thing.

* * *

><p><em>Interesting terrain,<em> thought Optimus, as he stepped over a fallen log. He'd been in nearly every environment on this planet, but never one so…forested. Arcee and Bumblebee had described woods like this one, but he'd never set foot in them. Until now, that is. There had been a recent rain, and moisture dripped from the trees, occasionally pattering down on the Autobots. There was a damp woody smell in the air, and it filled their olfactory sensors. Birds weren't visible at all, but their tweeting could be heard. A little ways off, he could see Bulkhead, through the light fog, carefully edging his massive frame between trees, and taking care where to place his pedes; the ground was like a wave front, in that it rose steadily and then dropped abruptly. Bumblebee had already fallen over, and Optimus could still hear the scout silently swearing over their comm. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy, and illuminated the droplets of condensation on their armor.

Optimus scanned the skies (not literally), for any signs of the craft, but there was nothing. It was probably still high up above.

"Optimus…"

"Yes, Arcee?"

"Do you get that sinking feeling?"

Optimus turned his optics to look at his second-in-command. She was a few meters ahead, one pede on a boulder, the other resting on the moist ground. She had one arm converted to an Energon SMG, and she was staring into the fog, as if trying to read it. So far, she hadn't made any progress.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that feeling you get when your matriarch or alpha just caught you with a porn holotab, that's what."

Optimus smiled behind his faceplate. While he'd never really come into possession of pornographic material, he had an idea of what being caught must have felt like. Back at the Hall of Records, Jazz would joke that almost half the comm calls that flitted across the Data Net were irate parents phoning their younglings to inform them that they had discovered their 'stashes'. Of course there were times when it was the other way around, but those were rare.

"No, Arcee, I'm afraid that I'm not getting your 'sinking feeling'. Why?"

Arcee shrugged, as she turned to face Optimus. "Call it femme's intuition. I've just got this vibe, that's all."

Optimus had grown to trust the Autobots under his command in all his long years of service, and when his second-in-command got 'vibes', he knew better than to ignore it. His team's hunches had gotten them out of more tight spots than he could count. He activated his vox, and contacted the base.

"Ratchet, can you give us a radar sweep of the area?"

He heard the medic typing rapidly, as he ran programs at a speed even Rafael couldn't match. Not yet, anyway. "I'm not picking up anything. The whole place is deserted."

"Are you sure?"

"A hundred percent sure, Optimus."

Optimus frowned slightly, as he thought. He stepped over another log, and sidestepped a pine, as he did so. "Can you give me news on the craft itself, Ratchet?"

"Hold on a klik…"

Optimus waited patiently, optics raking the sky once more. Bulkhead and Bumblebee had stopped beside him, and Arcee was still ahead. The forest grew silent, without any cybertronians crashing through it. Even the fog thinned somewhat. Ratchet's voice came through again.

"The ship's trajectory hasn't changed, nor has its speed. In fact…By the Allspark!"

"Ratchet, what's going on?" asked Bulkhead, arming his cannons. Bumblebee readied his weapons as well, and Arcee deployed a blade. Optimus' backstrut stiffened.

"The-the craft! It's slowing down, and leveling out!"

"Excuse me!" exclaimed Arcee.

_/I thought that thing was dead! /_

"The craft _is _dead, it's just an emergency protocol that activated," voxed Ratchet, "Point of fact; I'm more concerned as to where it will land now."

"Can you recalculate?" said Optimus.

"I'm doing that right now, the results are just coming up and-"

There was a brief silence as Ratchet just stopped speaking. Optimus frowned at the sudden hush; even the birds had stopped singing. "Ratchet, can you hear me?"

"Optimus! All four of you! Start running west, now!"

"What-"

"Don't argue; just run! Unless, you want an ancient spacecraft to crash-land, directly on top of you and squash you flat!"

A cold dread stole over the Bots. Then they tore like hell. The Autobots could run surprisingly fast when they needed to. The hard part was the unstable terrain. In some cases they had to jump or slide down, and Bumblebee had fallen over again. Bulkhead helped somewhat, by bulldozing a path through the forest, snapping trees and saplings in half, and leaving a storm of leaves in his wake. The others eagerly followed the makeshift trail, the less resistance the better.

Bumblebee heard it first: a screeching sound, followed by the thunderclaps of emergency thrusters. He stole a glance behind him, and the young scout's optics widened. Behind them, all spikes, fins and antennae, was a cybertronian craft, having just entered the atmosphere, and skimming over the tree line, its surface scratched, tongues of flame licking its skin from the reentry. Blue sparks rippled across its massive bulk, as its force field struggled to keep the flames at bay. Its emergency thrusters fired as it descended, scouring the tree line, and setting the tops of the nearest pines aflame. Smoke and embers billowed out from its rear, leaving what could only be described as a devil's tail. If Bumblebee hadn't known better, he would have labeled the thing as a creature from the deepest darkest depths of The Pit itself. The scout swore.

_/Primus, help us! /_


	5. Chapter 4

**There's a Todd McFarlane reference in here...somewhere...I think...**

**Anyway, read and review, people! And remember, keep guessing. I'll even throw in some high-grade!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Miko snatched up the remote control and began channel surfing, partly because she wanted something for her fingers to do, and partly because she wanted to take her mind off the ordeal. Because contrary to everyone's belief, Miko Nakadai was not at all 'okay'. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, so fast, she was sure it was going to pop out of her chest, and hit the table with a splatter of blood, still beating and-

She closed her eyes tightly, and opened them; it was how she got rid of morbid thoughts. But back to the point. Miko was not alright. Oh, sure she was all happy on the outside now, but on the inside…Good Lord, she felt…despoiled. That whole encounter had left her shaken, and beaten, and my God, she suddenly had an idea of what getting raped must be like…It was a cold clammy feeling, supplemented by wriggling guts, and crawling skin, and-

She took a shaky breath through her nose, jaw clenched and gripped the remote tighter, and her fingers became white, fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and wail.

Jack had returned with a jumbo sized bag of Doritos and cans of Coke. He raised an eyebrow at a still blushing Raf, who was buried in his laptop, and set the snacks on the low table. "Miko, are you sure you're feeling fine?"

Miko huffed. "I'm _fine_, Jack." Jack looked up, and caught a flash of annoyance in her eyes, as she paused on a fairly interesting channel. But there was something else. Uncertainty, perhaps? He sat down, pulling off the pin on his Coke, and eyeing Miko suspiciously. It wasn't something that was inherent in his family, but Jack could sniff out a fibber, just like his mother. And Miko was fibbing. _Guess Slash Monkey isn't so therapeutic after all,_ mused Jack. He was going to have to do something about this. He didn't show it outwardly, but he felt that Miko needed a boost up. Rambunctious as she was, he knew that a Miko who was happy all around was infinitely preferable to a Miko who was dead on the inside. Something had to be done; Miko's phobia would be the death of her someday, and he didn't think he could stand another episode like the one he had just witnessed. He glanced at Raf, and noted that the hacker had fished out his gaming headphones. He looked over to Ratchet, and was pleased to find out that the mech was still immersed in data. Taking a sip of Coke, and steeling himself, Jack turned to Miko.

"You know," he said, softly, "I used to be afraid of clowns." Miko blinked, surprise and disbelief crossing her face. She turned to Jack, who was looking at her with a serious expression. "Excuse me?"

"I kid you not," said Jack, shifting his attention to the television, "They'd freak me out. All that makeup on their faces…" He shuddered a little, and then, "You remember that episode of _Spawn_ we saw last week?"

"Yeah…," said Miko. She recalled that cartoon. They were lucky that Raf hadn't been there; _Spawn _had so much nudity and violence. And the swearing…Good God.

"There was that one clown: that fat guy who turned into a demon…what was his name…?"

"You mean…The Violator?"

"Yeah, him…that was what most clowns were to me when I was little… But that's not the point." He faced Miko once again. "The point is that I got sick and tired of being afraid of clowns." Miko raised an eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that you can't let your phobia get to you like that," said Jack.

"Ratchet, can you give us a radar sweep of the area?" said Optimus' voice, slightly garbled through the vox feed. Jack and Miko glanced at Ratchet briefly, as he typed rapidly, before resuming their conversation. "Like I said I got sick and tired of being afraid", said Jack, jabbing a finger at Miko, "And I've got a feeling you are too…" Miko tried to come up with an answer, to say that Jack was overreacting, that he was being too overly concerned. But she stopped herself, because a small part of her was telling Miko that Jack was right. Miko proceeded to stare at the wooden table, lips pursed, fist clenched.

"I'm not picking up anything. The whole place is deserted," said Ratchet, from his workstation.

"Are you sure?" said the Prime.

"A hundred percent sure, Optimus."

"Miko, listen to me," said Jack, softly, "In the long run, this fear of bugs isn't going to help you at all."

"Jack-"

"If you're going to get rid of this phobia, you have to let me help you." Miko faced Jack once again, eyes wide, as if seeing him for the first time. Suddenly, she felt that, yes, Jack was right, and yes, she wanted to let him help her. And he looked so sincere, that jaw clenched in determination, eyes serious. Damn, this was getting awkward, all of a sudden. When did she start seeing Jack in this sort of light?

"Can you give me news on the craft itself, Ratchet?"

"Hold on a klik…," said Ratchet, as he ran calculations.

Miko shook her head. "Jack, I…" But Jack laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, cutting her off. "It's okay Miko, just think about it for a while…" She took a breath and nodded, smiling a thin smile. Jack grinned back warmly, and held up the Doritos. "Want some? It's Barbecue Flavor…"

"The ship's trajectory hasn't changed, nor has its speed. In fact…By the Allspark!"

Jack and Miko whipped their heads around, at the sound of Ratchet's exclamation. Raf, for all purposes, was still immersed in his game, headphones spewing out the sounds of gunfire. "Ratchet, what is it?" asked Jack, leaning over the top of the couch. "Ratchet, what's going on?" said Bulkhead's voice. They heard the snap and click of his cannons arming themselves.

"The-the craft! It's slowing down and leveling out!"

"Excuse me?" came Arcee's exclamation.

_/I thought that thing was dead! /_

Jack and Miko looked at each other, and Raf, having noticed the commotion, took off his headphones.

"The craft _is_ dead, it's just an emergency protocol that activated," said Ratchet, expanding a portion of the radar map, and typing furiously "Point of fact; I'm more concerned as to where it will land now."

"Can you recalculate?" said Optimus. Ratchet looked at a screen, filled with glyphs and codes. "I'm doing that right now, the results are just coming up and-". He cut off, optics wide, and jaw open, as he stared at the equations and the Autobots' location markers. Raf swallowed. "Uhh…Ratchet? What-"

"Ratchet, can you hear me?" said Optimus. The medic suddenly gripped the edges of the touch-board, his servos almost crushing the metal. "Optimus! All four of you! Start running west now!" he practically yelled.

"What-"

"Don't argue!" exclaimed Ratchet, "Just run! Unless you want an ancient spacecraft to crash-land, directly on top of you and squash you flat!"

* * *

><p>The ground shook as the ship impacted the forest floor. The Autobots stumbled, but kept moving, as the craft tore apart the forest, doing more damage than Bulkhead could ever dream of doing. Entire pine trees were literally flattened as the craft slid, carried by its inertia, and what wasn't splintered, was incinerated by the searing heat of re-entry fire. Bumblebee had never run so fast in his life. The only time he'd ever come so close to this speed was on the Iacon Speedway, during the war. He made prayers to Primus as he ran, playing out entire verses, and litanies, and he hoped that this wouldn't be the end.<p>

Arcee had been the one to come up with the split-second decision. "Guys! We've got to split up! Go in two separate directions!"

"And how is that going to help?" shouted Bulkhead, over the noise. He was slowing down, his heat sinks and cooling fans struggling to keep up.

"If we separate into two groups," said Optimus, "Then the craft will pass directly between us!" He sped up, catching up with Bulkhead. "Arcee and Bumblebee, you will head to the right. I and Bulkhead will take the left."

"Copy that. Bee, come with me!" Bee complied, staying close to Arcee, as he dodged a tree. He glanced back, and saw Bulkhead and Optimus tearing through the foliage. He uttered a final prayer, as he drew up closer to Arcee. And that was when a particularly large tree creaked and toppled across their path. Arcee leaped, braced her pede on the bark and launched herself upward, just before the tree hit the ground. Arcee landed, rolled and kept running. Bumblebee sidestepped the tree, and ran, pedes pumping, trying to keep up. Yes, he was a fast, too fast for his age, but Arcee was faster, lighter. There was another series of booms, and the young Autobot began to run faster. The ship may be long, but from what he saw, it was wide as well. Getting out of its way was going to take some time. Come to think of it, why hadn't they thought of this sooner?

Bumblebee couldn't take it any longer. He put on a panicked burst of speed, and caught up to Arcee. Then, in a single deft movement, he scooped up the femme, and ran.

"Bumblebee, what are you doing?"

_/Now's not the time! /_ he shouted _/You can complain about how I saved you later! /_

"Put me down!"

But the scout ignored her completely, and kept running. He had covered a fair distance, and by then, the craft was so close, that Bumblebee could make out individual rivets, and bolts, as well as cybertronian glyphs. The scout let out a curse, and he leaped, Arcee still in his arms. He twisted in midair, so that Arcee was on top of his chest, and slid across the ground on his aft, throwing up leaves and abark. Behind them, the massive craft slid across their path, the fire narrowly missing them. Wind gusted, and blew debris everywhere. The sound was immensely loud, like the groaning of metal amplified by a factor of ten, coupled with the roar of some angry beast.

Bumblebee let out a vent of relief, when, several minutes later, the ship skimmed past. The ship's crash landing had left a gargantuan fissure, lined with splintered vegetation and floating leaves and pine needles. Tongues of flame dotted the ship's skid path, as well as melted rocks.

Bumblebee let out an electronic whistle, his spark still thudding in his chest.

"Bumblebee," said Arcee, her voice muffled.

_/Yeah? /_

"You can let go of me now…"

Bumblebee started, and let go of the disgruntled femme. _/Sorry 'Cee /_

Arcee smiled warmly, as she stood up. "Don't be," she said, "Come on; let's go find Optimus and Bulkhead."

Bumblebee let out a happy chirp in agreement, as Arcee helped him up to his pedes. They walked towards the pathway the craft had made for itself, and slid downwards. The two scouts deployed their weapons as they cautiously stepped towards the downed ship. Its thrusters were still firing, but not as strongly as before. Bumblebee noted the design. It was definitely Pre-War, judging by the lack of any symbol of any kind, and the warning glyphs on the engine pods seemed to be of a different dialect, one that the young scout was unfamiliar with. And then there was this sense of age…

Bumblebee beeped nervously.

"I know, Bee, I know," mumbled Arcee.

A tree, that hadn't been snapped or splintered, just snapped and splintered, as Bulkhead tore it out of the way. He swore as he surveyed the damage. "Haven't seen this sort of wreckage since Wheeljack tried to fill a 'Con with grenades…"

Optimus stepped out behind Bulkhead, and he too inspected the surroundings. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yup," said Arcee, servo on her hip, "You guys don't look so bad either."

"Ratchet," said Optimus, activating the vox, "We have evaded the craft, and will now attempt entry."

"Oh…thank Primus," said Ratchet, relief evident in his voice.

That, and Optimus could have sworn he had heard Miko whooping in the background.


	6. Chapter 5

**Just so you know, it's your last chance to submit your entry for 'Guess The Baddie'! **

**The big reveal will happen in the next chapter, so if you have any last minute entries, send 'em over now!**

**The winner will receive their chocolate chip muffins, and a lifetime supply of high-grade!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

For all purposes, the craft had the air of a slumbering beast. They'd waited till the thrusters stopped flailing and firing off, and made their approach towards the enormous mass. Optimus ran a servo over the metal hide, feeling the bumps and scratches along its surface, as he walked along its port side. There were so many abrasions across the hull that the whole ship resembled something made out of stone, instead of metal, granite instead of complex alloys, masonry instead of plating. Despite the tumultuous entry into the planet's atmosphere, the ship's surface wasn't red hot with searing heat, but rather, just lukewarm. A fact Bumblebee was quick to note.

_/ I thought it would be something close to a thousand degrees…/ _said the scout. He too was running his digits over the scarred metal, optics wide in awe, as he stepped over charred debris. _/ I mean, what with the friction and everything…/_

"Well, Bumblebee," said Optimus, a smile behind his faceplate, "When an object, say for example a meteorite, has been in space for a very, very long time, they will be frozen over in the vacuum."

_/Alright, I follow… /_

"When they enter our atmosphere, they are only present in it for about a few minutes because of their extreme velocity."

* * *

><p>"This means," said Ratchet, "That no matter what your 'action flicks' would have led you to believe, meteorites do not have time to <em>'go all scorching hot and explodey'<em> before the impact."

"Umm…Okay," said Jack, scratching his head, "I get what you mean." Miko rubbed her chin thoughtfully, leaning against the railing. "So Michael Bay is scientifically inaccurate," she mused, a smile lighting up her face.

"Naturally," said Ratchet, with a hint of smugness as he turned back to the screen, arms folded across his chest, optics shooting back and forth across grids and data feeds. The bay was quiet for a moment; save for a series of beeps and whirrs from the monitors. It was Raf who spoke first.

"But what about the cometary trail?" he asked, adjusting his spectacles, "I remember a picture my uncle took of a meteor shower, and the diagrams in my textbook, and they were on fire, and everything…"

* * *

><p>"That, Bumblebee, is simply down to physics," explained Optimus, avoiding a burning shrub, "When the flames alight, it is simply the air around the object that is being compressed at incredibly high speeds."<p>

"Ram pressure," said Bulkhead, as his optics inspected a particular notch in the metal plating. "Exactly," said Optimus, "The object will have a layer of air around it. It 'surfs' the shockwave it creates all the way down to the planet's surface."

"And that layer of air," said Arcee, as she drew up beside Bumblebee, "is what gets heated up and catches fire. Get it?" She smiled at the young scout, who had been paying rapt attention to everything. Bumblebee's optics crinkled in a smile. _/Yeah, I get it now /_

Then he tripped and fell over again.

* * *

><p>"Although," said Ratchet, as he typed, "the actual entry does heat up the outer layers of the object somewhat."<p>

"And in the case of a meteor," said Jack, "Those get blown off on impact. So they don't really matter. Right?" His arms were folded in a manner similar to Optimus, as he looked up at Ratchet. The medic shrugged. "Of course they don't. However, that doesn't really apply to a spacecraft."

"Force fields," said Raf, "One for combat, and one for atmospheric entry, right?"

"Yes."

"So this means," said Miko, as she tapped the railing, "That if a meteor hits, we can just pick it up and rub it in our faces?"

Ratchet ignored her statement.

* * *

><p>Optimus skirted around a fallen sapling, optics still searching for a point of entry. They had to work fast; there was no way to tell if the Decepticons had detected the ship as well. Bulkhead deployed his wrecking ball gauntlet and smacked it against the craft's hull experimentally, looking and listening for variations in the metal's thickness. Arcee's optics turned a deeper blue as she ran a scan over the ship. Bumblebee ran scans of his own, readouts and text scrolling across the bottom of his HUD, as he tied to ignore the newly throbbing ache in his aft, and the dirt and leaves stuck between his armor plating.<p>

The craft was not as sleek and streamlined as the newer models of ship Bumblebee had become accustomed to. Whereas the _Nemesis_ was reminiscent of a predatory raptor, this craft reminded Bumblebee of a lumbering herbivore. It was roughly rectangular-shaped, boosters jutting from its sides, vents dotting the surface here and there, antennae poking out like hair on mammalian skin, Cyberglyphics lining the plating, and around the exhaust ports. All in all a perfect replica of a boxy spaceship from a sci-fi flick. Bumblebee also noticed that the craft comically resembled a semi-truck with its trailer attached. Noting this, Bee looked over to Optimus, stared for a few seconds and then resolved himself, shaking his helm. _Nah_, he thought, as he continued his scan.

Arcee heard the clicking first. She turned around and was surprised to find Bulkhead's optics skirting across the ship's surface, flashing. With each flash, the same clicking followed. "Photography, Bulk?" she asked, incredulous, "Really?"

The Wrecker jumped a little, and smiled sheepishly. "It's for Miko," he said, rubbing the back of his helm, "I thought it'd cheer her up…considering…well, you know…"

Arcee gave a small laugh as she turned to make progress on the ship. "She's a strong kid, Bulk," she said, reassuringly, "I'm sure that when we get back, she'll be hopping from one foot to the other, just like always." Bulkhead sighed and tipped his helm. Then he looked up and snapped another picture, this time of what he was sure was the craft's name stenciled on the metal, though he couldn't be certain; the dialect was foreign to him.

Oh man, Miko was gonna love this!

* * *

><p>"Sweet!" exclaimed Miko, as her cell phone pinged. Jack and Raf threw glances at each other as the girl bolted for the coffee table and snatched up her Nokia. "Bulk sent pictures!"<p>

"Say what?" asked Jack as he joined Miko on the couch. Raf plopped down on the other side. "Me and Bulkhead set up this network with my cell phone," explained Miko, as she cycled through menus, "It kinda works like the regular comm. and everything, but it's for images, instead of vox feed. Raf helped." Jack looked at the hacker and raised an eyebrow. The young boy coughed theatrically. On the plus side, at least it was cheering Miko up…

"Whoa, look at this!" said Miko excitedly, drawing the boys' attention to the small screen. The two huddled closer as the first high definition pictures of the craft began to buffer. The three of them stared in awe, as they caught glimpses of Cyberglyphics, bent antennae, scoured metal, and-

"What in the name of Primus, is that?"

Jack, Miko and Raf jumped, the couch even squeaking a little, at the sound of Ratchet's voice. The kids whipped around to find the veteran staring at them and the cellphone with an expression of what could only be described as astonishment on his faceplates. The three of them would probably never know how, but Ratchet could always startle people, intentionally or otherwise, be they organic or not.

Jack swallowed, and said, "Well…Bulk just sent pictures to Miko…you know, of the ship…"

"I kind of set up visual patch with Bulkhead…," said Raf, biting his lip.

"So Bulk can take pictures if I don't make it through the Ground Bridge…," finished Miko, rubbing the back of her head in a manner very reminiscent of the Wrecker. Ratchet kept staring, his faceplates still locked in surprise. "You mean to say…," said the medic, slowly, "That you have a visual of the ship?" Miko coughed. "Err…Yeah."

There was silence. Then, "Do you think we could plug your cellphone into the console?" asked Ratchet, thumbing a servo to the screens behind him.

* * *

><p>Bulkhead hummed thoughtfully, as his wrecking ball smacked against the hull. This time, instead of a solid thud, he was met with a hollow thump. Ultrasound sensors embedded inside the studded sphere told him that there was something hollow behind the plating. "Hey, boss, I think I found a weak spot."<p>

Optimus turned around, his faceplate retracting. "An entrance?"

"Could be," said Bulkhead, "plating's a little thin here." To illustrate his point, he smacked the hull a little more. Arcee frowned contemplatively, and said, "Might be a service duct we could crawl through." Bumblebee whistled in agreement. _/I won't mind stuffing myself in /_ said the scout, _/ unless, there's an alternative, that is… /_

Optimus' optic-brows creased, as he weighed his options. What they were proposing was risky, but it was definitely quicker than to simply search for another point of entry. Besides, there was always the Decepticons to consider, as well…

"Time is of the essence," said Optimus, as he deployed his weaponry, "Bulkhead, will prolonged heating soften the alloy?"

"Scrap yes, it will."

Bumblebee raised his arms, his neutron assault rifles primed. Arcee flicked off the safeties on her SMGs. Bulkhead primed his cannons. "Autobots," rumbled Optimus, "blast that plating!" Weapons charged up, their energy outputs set at the highest, for maximum burn, and full automatic fire, and they discharged, energy beams scouring the metal with searing heat. There was a metallic groan as sections of the plating began to groan and buckle. Meanwhile, the metal itself began to steadily glow red hot.

* * *

><p>"Wait, why are we doing this again?" asked Miko, as she watched Ratchet delicately handle her phone. He held it between his thumb and index digit, as he rummaged around a crate full of cables. "Because," muttered the medic, "I can't get a visual of the ship."<p>

Ratchet found what he was looking for. He untangled a distinctly cybertronian cable from several others. How he did it with just one servo, nobody would know. "If I can at least see what class of craft it is, I might be able to compare it with what I have in my database, and form a clearer picture of what we may find. I might even identify its designation."

"Good work with that patch Raf," smiled Jack, as he ruffled the hacker's hair. Raf smiled nervously.

Ratchet jacked one end of the cord into one of the console's many ports, while the other end compacted into a tinier shape so Miko's Nokia could accommodate the pin. Idly, Ratchet wondered why the girl's communication device had to be such bright neon pink, so bright it could hurt someone's optics…

A loading icon appeared on the screen, and seconds later, a 'device recognized' message popped up. Ratchet flicked his digits across the touch sensitive display, opening up the phone's digital files, and heading for the images. The antivirus scan he had initiated came back negative, and he dismissed it. Not that he was worried that Miko's phone could carry potentially hazardous malware, primitive technology that it was. But you could never be too sure with anything associated with Miko…

Ratchet rapidly cycled through the girl's tens of images. He couldn't help but notice that Miko was astonishingly good at this photography thing. Why, the timing on these pictures was spot on! He raised an appreciative brow as he swept past a snapshot of a sunrise over the missile silo they called home.

"Yes, I know," piped up a grinning Miko, as she pretended to check her nails, "wonderful shots, aren't they?"

"Shut up…," growled Ratchet, face twisted into a grimace. Primus-damn it, he'd let his guard down!

After what felt like minutes, he'd found the images he was looking for. He expanded the shots, so they filled up at least three whole screens, and opened up the database. He ran a recognition algorithm, and fed the images through the program. Another loading icon appeared, as the software did its work.

"Hmm…" mused the medic, optics narrowed, "This ship seems to be a transport of some sort."

"So you have data on every ship on Cybertron?" asked Raf, as he examined one of the enlarged snapshots. "Yes," said Ratchet, "Before we escaped our planet, we felt it was necessary to compile a list of spacecraft, regardless of class, function or age. It was to be a useful way of identifying a ship, should we encounter one."

"How many spaceships do you have in there?" asked Miko, as she examined a scarred engine pod. "As of the start of the Exodus? Literally thousands," said Ratchet, facing the children, "Everything there is to know about these vessels, such as armor thickness, weaponry, crew capacity, speed, is recorded in this database."

He let out an electronic cough as he rubbed his helm. "Although, we have very little information on the _Nemesis_…"

The console let out an electronic ping, as the results came up on screen. Ratchet turned to the screen eagerly, as he enlarged the window. "Let's see…," he mumbled, as he scrolled down.

**Class:** D-Type heavy transport/ cargo barge. (Manufacturer: Backthrust Drive Yards).

**Hull Rating: **8.4/ 10, moderately high protection. (**Modified**: Hull Rating is now 9.5/ 10)

**Engine Class: **Mark-6 Spitfire jets. (**Modified**: Type 3 Lance Turbines)

**Top Speed: **400,000 Kelim per Klik. (**Modified**: 600,000 Kelim per Klik. See above.)

**Weapon Complement: **None (**Modified**:three (3) turbolaser batteries, four (4) rear facing plasma turrets, four (4) Riptide Torpedo sets, two (2) Firestorm missile sets, and six (6) rotary guns.)

**Crew Capacity: **Four thousand. 

**Navigations, Communications, and other modules: **Several. Click _here_ for a complete list.

**Designation: **_M.T.S Venator_

"The _M.T.S Venator_?" said Ratchet, "That's a military designation. And all that armament, and extra armor. Why on a simple cargo ship?" The three kids stared as Ratchet ran comparisons with _Venator's_ civilian equivalent. "Wait hold on," said Miko, who had been paying close attention to the weapons listings, "They turned that flying truck into a flying _nuke_?"

"Nice analogy," mumbled Jack. Was it just him, or was the _Venator_ reminding him of Optimus for some reason?

"Semi-truck much?" asked a smiling Raf, as he looked up at Jack.

"There's something oily going on here," said Ratchet, as he typed furiously. "There is absolutely no way in The Inferno that a cargo hauler can be so well armed!"

* * *

><p><strong>Well, time to work on our villain's big reveal!<strong>

**Remember, i'll be waiting for your entries, so comment away!**

**You can even PM me, if you wish!**


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